Someday
by ForestFireSong
Summary: After his tribe was taken over, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe was trapped inside of prisoner of war camp, which he will never escape. Toph Beifong has been sick all her life, and it'll all end soon. These two, bordering on death, meet each other through a paper plane, and their relationship grows, even when it can only end in tragedy. [Based on 'Prisoner and Paper Plane']
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, ForestFireSong here! I have so many stories, and look, I've started another one :D Great….Thankfully, this one is pre-written, so updating should be easy. **

**Anyway, this is my Avatar adaption of the songs "Prisoner" and "Paper Planes" sung by the Vocaloids Kagamine Len and Rin. (Which I don't own. The same goes for Avatar.) These are really great songs. They're not necessary to listen to since everything will be explained in this fic, however they will provide more information and are just emotionally wonderful all around, making for beautiful background music.**

**Finally! Toph will be somewhat OOC in here. I shouldn't be making excuses at all, but trying to align Toph's personality with Rin's in the song and vice-versa was hard. I'll try my best, but please take note of that.**

Blue was an interesting color. It was the color of the sky, the sea, and the unobtainable flowers in the field beyond the fence. Blue was the color of my people, those of the Water Tribe. And blue was the color of my sister Katara's eyes, which used to shine so brightly.

I had lost all that blue. Even the blue clothes I used to wear, like a true warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, were gone. I now wore battered gray clothes, prisoner's clothes. The pure white of the snow was gone, replaced by the worn brown earth of the camp. No longer did I live in a cozy home made of snow with my Gran-Gran and my sister, but instead an Earth Nation camp, packed into cramped and dirty bunkers with people of all different sources.

Sokka of the Water Tribe. What a warrior I was now.

The Water Tribe had been locked in a war with the Earth Nation and the Fire Nation for awhile now. The airbenders were technically on our side, but seeing as they were composed of pacifists, we couldn't and didn't expect much help from them. And that was the good way to go, the way of not hoping or expecting anything better. The Air Nomads had been easily conquered by the Fire Nation. There was even an air nomad boy here, one barely twelve years of age. I didn't know his name, but I saw him every day. Downcast gray eyes, arrow tattoos on his hands and shaved head. He seemed so frail- he could barely finish the tasks of digging and laboring on the walls and fences.

But if that boy, or anyone, failed to do their tasks, they would receive a rock to the head or back or face, or a severe physical beating from our Earth Nation guards. I'd been in the camp for weeks, maybe months, and I'd seen it happen. So whenever I saw that air nomad boy fall behind in his work, I'd reach over and take the shovel, or carry some of his load. We rarely spoke. He never smiled at me- no one in this camp smiled. But I could feel his gratefulness in the way he quietly allowed me to help him.

I wondered how much longer he would last.

I wondered how much longer _I_ would last. The Earth Nation guards were appreciative of hard work and skilled laborers. But no one made it out of these camps. Not that I could tell, at least. I had seen so many people come and go….be led away, never to come back…

The Southern Water Tribe had just about all of its men away fighting. We didn't stand a chance. We were so small, we were bound to get overwhelmed.

That was when it happened. Katara, my younger sister, a budding waterbender, fell in love with a horribly scarred Fire Nation soldier. We had tried so hard to keep ourselves hidden, but she couldn't stopit, just like she couldn't stop that quick blast of fire.

Well, the way things ended up, the Fire Nation soldier ended up being killed for treason. Our village attacked. And Katara, my younger sister, whose blue eyes would shine so brightly, was gone. So was her only source of happiness as we remained trapped in our own land.

And I came to this camp.

Sometimes, I wonder if Katara is the lucky one.

It was absurd, but whenever I could go outside- which wasn't very often- I would pick up small rocks and place them in my pocket. They would stay in the drawer of my bedside table, until I was all alone- that was when I would take them out, and Earthbend.

It drained my already meager health, but it was exciting. For once, I wasn't Toph Beifong, the sick girl on floor two of the hospital, room 108, whose father worked in the nearby camp and wouldn't live much longer. I could pretend I was like one of the Earthbenders in a fight match that I always liked to watch on TV, when the channels weren't filled with news on the currently occurring war.

Earthbending rocks while no one was around was fine, but even having a rather boring existence overall, I eventually wanted something more exciting. My curiosity was drawn to the camp where my father worked. He never told me what he did there, even though a nurse had let it slip it was a camp for prisoners of war. That piqued my curiosity even more.

So after another long examination and complicated medical explanations from my doctor to my father, I'd had enough. I was strong enough to walk, if I were to be allowed out of bed. Being granted permission didn't matter though. My father, doctor, nurse, everyone was gone from my room.

I wasn't sure I'd be able to. I'd walked to the bathroom before, but walking a long distance…I didn't even know if I could get out a bed without help. Breathing in a bit, I climbed out of bed, making my way around the tubes.

When my feet touched the cold floor and held me up for the first time in so long, I felt dizzy. The world seemed to sway around me- this new world that wasn't limited to hospital machines and a condition defining me. My feet would take me wherever I wanted them to.

I went down the hall of the hospital. The walls were stark white, a sanitary sign, and nurses and doctors clicked down the hall. Most of them had to tend to overwork and starvation, not a terminal condition like mine. I wasn't entirely sure I knew the way outside, but simply the thrill of finding it was enough for me. Barefoot and in a white robe, I was probably a strange sight, but miraculously nobody tried to stop me. I kept out a sharp eye for anyone that might've recognized me as I walked down winding hallways, down the stair, and gradually out the door of the hospital. But there was no one.

I finally made my way out of the hospital, admittedly out of a side entrance. The entire complex was surrounded by nothing, literally nothing, save for the camp in the distance. I wanted to head there, but I stopped for a moment, observing my surroundings. I felt exhilarated and overwhelmed. Every time I'd gone outside before had been in a wheelchair. But now there was this- I had gotten myself here. Feeling the earth under my feet and the sky stretching above me was amazing-liberating.

I gazed around again at my surroundings. The camp wasn't far. I wasn't sure how far I could walk without collapsing. My legs were thin, and my breaths were coming out quickly from having just spun around in exuberance. But I wanted to take the risk.

After walking a bit my legs were shaking underneath me, and I was sweating profusely. The sickness had definitely taken its toll on my body, but I wasn't as weak as everyone had assumed, if I'd managed to make it as far as I had. I could only hope I would hold out on the journey back.

I approached camp from the side, not the entrance where guards would definitely see me. The fence was tall and barbed, maybe electrically charged. There was a watchtower, but it was unguarded. Looking into the camp, I didn't know what to think.

There were rows of houses, looking flimsy and unprofessionally made. I could see people sitting out around them, talking quietly. They were so thin it was shocking, and looked dirty and desperate. Farther on I could see more houses, these larger and looking better taken care of. Right in front of me, blocked only by the fence, was a huge pit. What for, I had no idea and couldn't guess. But maybe that was the reason the guards who were milling around didn't come close.

In a way, looking at the camp made me want to cry. All of these people were prisoners of war. But there were kids, old men and women, just ordinary people whose lives were being stolen. They had no place there. And this was where my father worked every day? He was confronted with walking examples of human starvation and desperation. Despite the sun, despair seemed to hang over the camp.

Turning away, I looked to the ground to avoid looking at the camp. Maybe it was time to head back…I kept my eyes on the ground, and to my surprise, I saw something bright white standing out against the crumbly brown earth.

I knelt and picked it up. A paper airplane.

Unfolding the intensely white paper (so white, just like my robe and the hospital walls…white seemed to be my life…) my eyes widened to see words written there. Not a paper plane for amusement, but more like a message.

Raising my eyes back to the camp, I was surprised for them to meet a pair of blue ones from afar. A boy stared back at me, from across the ditch. Or maybe he was looking at the paper at my hand.

He had wide blue eyes that, unlike the rest of the camp, don't seem to have lost their luster yet. He had a tall and lean build, I could tell, but that has dwindled down into simple malnourishment. His skin is much darker than mine, and his hair dark brown, pulled into a spiky ponytail. He's wearing some torn clothes that I can tell match what the rest of the prisoners are wearing.

I glance back down at the words, reading them over, and then look back to him. Briefly I wonder what he did to get into this camp, until I realize it, as strongly as I had when I had first looked upon the camp.

_Nothing._

Then with help of a brush and ink I was planning on using for the schoolwork my father teaches me every day after school, my own words are on the paper. I just can't forget how human that boy across the fence is. His letter talks of his life in camp, his sister, his home in some strange icy place. Whether it made him feel more homesick and sad, or better, I don't know.

But before long, the paper plane sails into the seemingly eternal blue sky, away from the ugly barbs of the fence and right before the feet of the recipient, who is probably as lonely as the sender.


	2. Chapter 2

Lying on the hard top bunk of my bunk bed, I looked at the windows pried open due to the heat of summer. Pale moonlight was shining in. Thankfully my pillow faced that pale moonlight, and my face itself, but was also turned away from the Earthbender guard.

My hands were shaking even as I reached into my flat pillow, trying not to make a sound. If they heard me…but they wouldn't. They couldn't. I wouldn't let them destroy my happiness.

There was no way…any way at all I would end up like that air nomad boy…

Just thinking about him made me sick to my stomach. I had thought I was getting to know him. I had thought I had seen a semblance of a smile on his face the other day. But I wasn't watching…I was distracted. He was falling behind, and in one quick move, the rock fell, and he was gone.

I had continued on working. There was nothing else I could do, except to pray to the Spirits he had gone quickly. Did the air nomads pray to different Spirits? I had no idea, or maybe it was just my mind refusing to function properly.

_Well, wherever he went, he's free. And that's the way for Airbenders to go, right? They can't be constrained. I always wondered why he didn't just fly away over the fence… _

_He's flying now, somewhere. Just like everyone in this camp will, eventually. Unless we win this war, we're never getting out. _I'll _never get out of here. But at least…_

Slowly, I pulled out the bright white sheets of paper from my pillow. The paper was slightly wrinkled and dirty from being inside my pillow, but the unblemished bright white patches stood out brightly, illuminated by moonlight. Lying on my side, I read the words over and over again, some in my handwriting, some in hers.

Her. I had no other name for the girl I had been corresponding with, so I relied solely on pronouns. But even without a name, I had a clear picture of her in my mind. I could see her black hair, bangs hanging in her face, and the white robe she always wore, tied with a sash. I could still see her from way across the fence, bending over to pick up the paper airplane lying on the ground.

When I had first written on the blank piece of paper I found outside of the house for the guards, using a nub of a pencil, I wrote on it purely out of desperation. I didn't think I would last much longer, and I didn't have anything to last for. Food rations were low, the work was grueling, and there was nothing in the camp that could vanquish the metaphorical shadow hanging over us.

The words I wrote on the paper were reminiscing on my part. I wrote about Katara and Gran-Gran, our home in Southern Water Tribe, and of all the things that used to make me exuberant, or at least merely content. None of those things were around anymore, so I could hardly draw happiness from them, but by writing about them, I felt a little bit better. On the paper was a testimony by Sokka of the Water Tribe, proving that things had indeed once been a step-up from how they were currently.

But if I were caught with a paper having such incriminating writings, I would've been immediately killed. I knew about my oncoming death, but I had planned it to be by resistance or overwork, which I didn't really consider stories of my past life to be. So I folded all evidence of my ordinary, familiar, good days into a paper plane and tossed it over the fence.

By said fence was an enormous pit we had been laboring on for several days. I didn't know what it was for, and it gave me an apprehensive feeling. However, that area of camp was ideal, because most of the Earthbending guards seemed to get the same vibe from the pit as me. During the heat of the day, we had a rare brief period of relaxation. That was when I snuck away, and sent my paper plane into the cloudless blue sky.

I had watched it go, sail briefly away from the thorny top of the fence, and settle gently on the grass a little ways away. And just like that it was out of my reach.

I was going to run away from it, that paper plane that would soon become the center of my life. I hadn't turned, yet, when I noticed something that I hadn't been expecting- a rare sight.

I saw a girl. And that in itself wasn't the rare part. There were plenty of girls and women in camp (but that was hard to think of…because so many of them didn't make it…there was the beautiful white-haired girl…the impassive black-haired girl, her hair in two tight buns…) but seeing one _outside _ of the fence was a nearly unimaginable sight. No one came from outside the fence except for the guards coming in from shifts.

And so that was when I first saw _her. _Younger than me,dressed in a billowing white robe, the girl's gait was a little shaky, and she gazed at camp with wide, unknowing eyes. I'd had no idea where she'd come from, why she'd want to come to a place like this. All I could do was simply watch her and she inspected her surroundings.

I could tell from her features she was from the Earth Nation. That was why when she picked up my paper plane from the grass, I was shocked. Part of my alarm was due to the fact stated above. But I also didn't know how she'd react to reading my reminiscent ramblings. It was obvious the letter was mine from where I was standing and how stupidly I looked as I watched her reading the words printed on the paper plane.

A million things could've happened then, but the one I hadn't been expecting was the one that actually occurred. The girl pressed her hand flat against the back of the paper, and, fumbling for a brush and ink, she had started making careful strokes.

I had watched the whole thing, dumbfounded, not realizing what this girl was doing. She had read my pitiful recollection of past joys and was…writing something back. Moronically, it took me a long time to come to that conclusion, probably because I couldn't see, at all, why she would have anything to say to me.

Then the paper plane had floated easily over the fence and landed at my feet. I picked it up, and saw this strange girl's neat, bold strokes next to my faded, scraggly ones. What she had written to me was so normal; it nearly brought a smile to my face. She compared the climate of the Earth Nation to the Southern Water Tribe and relayed how she had no siblings or grandparents, a very small family. It was particularly special, but those strokes on that paper airplane showed that this girl cared. Maybe only a little bit, maybe her writing was only to relieve herself of boredom, but just the fact that she had written back to me showed that I wasn't just a prisoner doomed to death. And looking into the white-robed girl's eyes, eyes that seemed to be laughing at me but were still the kindest I had ever seen, I knew that she at least cared if I wrote back.

That was how things had been going for awhile. Days, weeks, they all merged together, and all I really focused on was working hard so that I'd be able to eventually send and receive another paper plane.

Whenever we ran out of paper, the girl would supply some more. I was still using the pencil. Whenever it ran low, I tried to sharpen it with anything I had- anything to keep writing. I always kept the paper airplanes that, upon landing on my side, had become too filled with words for us to continue on. I kept them in my pillow, and on days that I really needed it, which was today, I would pull them out and read over the words, the conversations we'd been having.

Those paper planes were my joy. My fuel, you could say. In that oppressing camp, where days consisted of nothing but pain, there had been nothing really for me to live for. Everyone I had cared for was gone, and I soon would be too. But with every message I received in the form of a paper plane, my feelings changed. Tomorrow, the next day, months from now, the white-robed girl would want me to write back. She couldn't always make it to the fence to see me, and I checked every day, but the days that she did, she was always glad to see me. Her letters were full of teasing, but it was gentle. (I knew she really loved the jokes I made up on the spot, no matter what she said.) I didn't know much about this girl, not even my name, but I could tell she was as lonely as I was.

I slid the letters back into my pillow as I heard the guard's footsteps move towards my bunk. There was no way I was getting found out; we'd made it this far. I hadn't felt that way in a long time, but I was starting to feel a tiny ray of hope, or maybe faith. It was miniscule, but it was there. I had faith that we would win the war, and I'd make it out of that camp- I had hope. _If I were to get out of this camp,_ I wrote. _I would go and see you first thing. Not with a fence separating us, but seeing you properly, so we can talk._

I wanted to see her…someday. When I got out of the camp, (when, when, when) I wanted to see the white-robed girl. I would stay alive till then, following orders, working hard and sustaining myself for a reason I wanted to tell her…._Because I think I love you. _


	3. Chapter 3

My mattress was soft against my back as I sat up, staring out the window briefly. There was nothing to see from my window, just the vast rolling hills of the far reaches of the Earth Kingdom.

Having spent much of my life in a hospital, I was used to having to look out of windows to find something to occupy my vision other than white sheets and walls and the tubes that constantly surrounded me.

However, this time, I didn't spend much time looking out the window. After glancing at it quickly, I returned my gaze to paper in my hand- a paper covered with words and bent strangely, having been, at one point, a paper plane.

I had lots of them, all tucked away in my drawer along with the rocks I used to pick up every time I went outside.

Now I went outside much more. I tried to get out of the hospital nearly every day. However, it seemed like every time I attempted to climb out of bed, more and more tubes blocked my way, making the struggle even more difficult. Some days I couldn't even leave at all. But I made that my goal for each day, to escape my bed and venture outside.

And the stack of paper planes inside my dresser drawer was proof that I had succeeded. I looked down at the one in my hand. I almost wished I could go see the boy across the fence that day, but I was too weak. Even simply going to the bathroom had nearly caused me to collapse to the floor. I had cursed, not the first time, not for the last that day, my body's restrictions.

Because despite how trying it was to sneak out of the hospital and walk all the way to camp, I was always rewarded. I pictured the letters on the page, spelling out one of many conversations between me and the boy. I had some of the letters memorized, and despite myself, I would blush whenever I read them.

_I think…this is what you call love._

The folded paper planes had become my most treasured possessions. More, the feelings that were on the paper. Before, I had simply survived in the hospital. I mean, I did love my father, but I hated having to put him through so much pain. Having the disease I did, I would eventually die, and both my father and I knew that, so our time together had been bittersweet.

But I had never told the Water Tribe boy about my condition. When I wrote to him, I could write free of my illness. The same seemed to be with him- when he wrote he was so full of life, cracking jokes and having a cheerful disposition. I closed my eyes then, like I usually did when standing on one side of the fence opposite him. By doing that, I could pretend the fence no longer existed, and the Water Tribe was simply on the other side, waiting for me to walk on over.

_Every day I think about walking out to go write the Water Tribe boy again. Every night I anticipate the next day to do that. This, I think, is living, actually having something to live for. I don't know how important our letters are to him, but to me, they're as vital as all the machines and tubes that surround me…and I hope he knows that, with every paper plane that goes across the fence…_

"Toph!"

I open my eyes suddenly. "Dad…!" I pause in my greetings, when I notice his gaze going down to my midsection. I look down as well, and I catch sight of what he's looking at. The paper airplanes.

"What are these?" my father asked, snatching one up. His eyes behind his glasses scanned the paper furiously. I tried to focus on answering, and not paying attention to the military guard uniform he wears. Is he one of the guards who makes the Water Tribe boy work so hard…? I felt sick to my stomach, but this time it's a feeling the doctors can't fix.

"These…these are from a boy in the camp. He threw a paper plane, and…" my voice came out meekly, and I tried to speak more strongly. "So I…"

My father stopped paying attention to what I was saying, instead fixing his heated gaze on me. "You mean to say that you've been communicating with a boy from camp? You'd have to sneak out of the hospital, so is that what you've been doing?"

Since he had pinned down exactly what I had been doing, I knew that I couldn't deny it. "Yes, Father, but you don't understand…"

"I do understand!" my father replied, and before long he had launched into a long lecture about how that camp is a prisoner of war camp, and all the people there are enemies, enemies to our nation. It was dangerous, he said.

"I'm afraid for you, Toph. You aren't strong enough to be walking to that…camp every day, and all for some enemy boy." He looked at me softly for a few moments, and I relaxed a bit, until his gaze hardened, and he started up again.

"But talking to such a boy is inexcusable! I've told you- they're _enemies, _and what would lead you to talk in the form of letters to one is beyond me. No more of this, Toph! You can't do this anymore." I couldn't even respond, because my eyes were focused on my father's hand, clutching the paper plane containing those precious words.

Then suddenly my father's fingers tightened, and the paper was crushed beneath his fingers. My eyes widened. I opened my mouth, angry and shocked words on my tongue, but none of the right ones came out. _That letter…_!

After dropping it to the floor, my father closed all the curtains, sweeping the white cloth over the window so quickly I couldn't even catch a glance of the world outside before it disappeared. He glanced once more over his shoulder before slamming the door as well.

I sat in my bed, shocked. The room was dark, and I realized I didn't even have the energy to pull myself from bed and open the windows again, or try to pick up my crumpled paper plane.

Still recovering, I looked down at the other letters strewn out on my bed, having avoided my father's grasp somehow. Even though my arms had a dull ache, I gathered up the paper planes and placed them in the drawer on my bedside table_ No one will get to them there…._

Shrouded in the sudden darkness of my room, I wished that I could go outside and see the Water Tribe boy. Never mind the weakness of my body- in my head, in another world, I could just walk to see him, knowing I would smile just by reading something he wrote to me. Even where he is, he always managed to find something funny or cheerful to say. My letters too, I realized, were a lot happier than my usual tone.

_What led me to write this boy back? Look at how we're doing…we support each other…if we cause each other this much happiness, why _wouldn't _we write each other…?_

I turned my eyes on the door. I hated how weak I was, that I couldn't even follow my father and explain to him what I felt. I hated my illness, and the tubes and machines surrounding me. I hated the prisoner of war camp, the spiked fence that separated me. And I hated the tears that ran in warm, damp trails down the side of my face.

I wiped my face furiously. _I don't understand what's going on at all…! But I will see him again. Even if it's our last time, I'm not going to abandon him, no matter how hard my father tries, or how sick I get…I'll find a way. _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yay, double Toph! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited this story. It really makes a difference in my day!**

I looked out of the window of my room. It was the only glimpse of the outside I had nowadays. I had used to be taken out of the hospital sometimes, for a breath of fresh air, but no longer. No longer was I allowed outside.

I closed my eyes against the sunlight coming in. Each day, my body deteriorated. Not literally breaking apart, but I could feel it. My legs and my feet felt limp and lifeless, or were continually aching. They refused to move, pain flaring across my nerves when I attempted so. The tubes around me increased every day, except this time I was certain. A patch on my arm was connected to a tube of clear liquid.

Ever since that day…ever since the day my father crushed the plane and closed the door; ever since the light flooding into my room was shut out, I'd grown sicker and sicker. I had always been ill, but now my body was being taken over at a rapid pace.

A melancholy sickness.

_So fast…_

_ Too fast to fight…_

The sickness ravaged across my body. It would consume me, soon, and the heart monitor would cease to beep. One day, I'd be in over my head and be unable to swim to shore…

That day was soon, but it wasn't today.

I didn't want to die. Not for myself, because I had known I was going to die from a very young age. There was another my mind was fixated on- an idiotic smile, bright blue eyes, jokes that I still weakly laughed over in my bed painted on a sheet of paper.

It had been so long since I had seen him, or so it felt. But I _would _see him.

Because I'd decided something that I'd confirmed long ago. I wasn't going to die, not yet. I wasn't going to leave the Water Tribe boy. He'd brightened my days beyond the unreachable light coming in through my window, and the fake overhead electric lights. If I died, I had to see him again. My father, my weakening legs, they wouldn't get in the way…

Even though my lessons had ceased, I still had paper and a brush. My hands were shaking, illness having taken its toll on them as well. I would probably dribble ink on the pure white sheets, but I didn't care.

My brush hovering over the paper, I foggily pondered over what to say. I had never told the Water Tribe boy what was wrong with me, and I didn't want to say it now. I felt guilty for never revealing it to him, but I wanted him to keep smiling on. Maybe he never would, in that cursed camp.

But also, by telling him this, I could imagine going to see him again. It was lying to myself, but I wanted to be able to imagine another afternoon by the fence, and ignore that I would never go there again.

_I'm going away for a little bit, _I printed on the paper. Tears started to sting and burn my eyes again, but this time I blinked them away. With my still shaking hand, I thrust the folded paper plane into the wide pocket of my robe.

Now I had to figure out how to get out of here. In the days since I had been barred, physically by myself and my father, from going to see the Water Tribe boy, the hospital room had become my prison.

But seeing as said boy was trapped in a prison much less escapable than my own, I couldn't think that. I had to find a way out. I had done it before; the physical limitations were just a little greater now.

I was hooked up to many machines, tubes limiting me. However, I was sick of all of the constraints, of constantly sitting and staring out the window. I'd had enough of that. Looking towards the tube that held the clear liquid, connected to a patch on my arm, I swiped at it, disconnecting in from my body.

I managed to disentangle myself from the surrounding machines. By the time I was done I had a splitting headache, pain searing behind my eyes. Even surrounded by my white robe, I felt cold.

_Just focus on getting out of bed…_

As soon as I got out of bed, my legs folded underneath me. My legs hurt, prickles hot like a flame running across my legs whenever I tried to move them.

I could walk.

The doctor told me I couldn't walk, but I knew I could.

I lay on the floor, wondering if a doctor or nurse had heard me. No one opened the door, so I assumed I was safe.

_Lift yourself up…_

_ Even if you're unsteady, you can still walk…_

Each step jolting a new agony into my legs, I wobbled over to the door. My thoughts were far away, on a blue sky and eyes to match, and paper planes and barbed fences, but to achieve actually getting out of the hospital, I needed to focus on the task at hand.

I wrenched open the door.

_One step._

_ Another step. _

_ Just make it down the hall, and we can take it from there. _

Panting. Stumbling.

I was halfway down the hall. Then to the staircase. Sweat beaded my forehead, and I despised the pitiful state I was in. _If only…_

Down the stairs. I could've easily fallen and split my head open. I was determined to make it though, and clung to the railing. I was going to die, I knew that, and I may even die on this trip, but I was going to make it to the camp if my life depended on it.

Which I was beginning to think it did.

After tripping my way down the hospital stairs and out of the door, I wiped my head determinedly. My mind focused on where I was going, not the pain shooting through my body and the dizziness surrounding me. When, if I made it back to the hospital, my doctor would notice my condition.

I didn't care.

But even so, as I looked towards the camp, the path I had treaded so often and for so many days looked so much harder. I stumbled a step towards it, and before I knew it, I had fallen forward, onto my knees, my palms against the earth.

That was what clued me in. I could feel hard-packed dirt and rocks beneath my hands, grass spiking my skin. I was an earthbender- not a good one, but I was still one regardless. We were supposed to be strong and solid, which I wasn't. But I had to try.

Even though I lost strength with every step, I finished the journey, all the way to the fence. When I reached that location, I didn't want to appear so feeble- I wanted to disguise my pathetic state.

That was hard, but smiling wasn't. Despite the bleakness of the situation, this spot by the fence was the place I had felt the most happiest in my life, where I had felt more alive than dying. And it wasn't hard at all to smile at the boy who greeted me, although it did falter as I reached into the pocket of my white robe and clutched the paper airplane.

This was good-bye, and he might think it only for a little while, but I knew the truth. All throughout the walk to the fence I had told myself I would come again, but by the end of it, I knew from my struggling and difficulty of breathing that this was the last time.

That forced the smile, but I kept it up, because I didn't want the last time I saw the boy to be a sad one.

So I put all of that forth into the paper plane and sent it soaring over the fence. I had lost count of how many times I had watched paper planes fly over the fence, and this time it was more bittersweet than anything.

I watched the Water Tribe boy kneel down and pick up the plane, unfolding it and reading it.

That was when I couldn't stand it anymore. Screw being an earthbender, being strong and solid and not showing how weak I was- I was weak. I didn't want to leave this boy behind, but at the same time I couldn't stand to be near him anymore knowing it was all stalling. I turned away, reading to start back, not caring if I fell down, just that I made it back before I could cry.

"Wait a moment!" a voice suddenly called. It was strange to call it a voice, but for a moment I was stunned. Who was that? Then I realized the only person it could be, whose voice I had never heard before. I had always wanted to, and known the risks, but now, apparently none of that mattered.

"You're my partner, right?" I had frozen by then. "You're…not going to come back?"

The barrier had been broken. I wasn't going to come back. And he was going to die in this prison. We were completely and utterly doomed. Before I had just accepted it, but something in the boy's voice made me throw all that away.

"My name's Sokka," he said. _Sokka. Sokka. _I repeated that name in my head. It was a Water Tribe name, definitely, and suddenly everything about the paper planes and the jokes screamed Sokka. Suddenly he was so much more real, in that second he had told me his name, because I could call him by name in my thoughts.

_Sokka, I'm sorry you have to suffer in these camps. Sokka, I wish the world weren't like it was! Sokka, I'm sorry that my father works at the very place that will bring upon you your doom. Sokka, I wish I could just say it…_

"I've been carefully keeping all your letters. I'll wait until you return, okay?" Tears were running down my face, needless to say, and I couldn't even be bothered to wipe them as they splashed down onto my robe and onto the grass.

But despite my earlier resolve, the name Sokka was in my head and attached to all the images of that smiling boy and paper planes and every other thing we had experienced in the spans of months of correspondence. I couldn't touch him, see him face to face, or even talk to him, but I could see him. I looked over my shoulder at him, holding his paper plane in one hand, staring at me like he was trying to tell me everything in one glance.

So I smiled, for everything, trying to communicate everything like those earnest blue eyes were doing.

If that second lasted for an eternity, I would've been overjoyed.

But a second was only a second, a brief moment in time that you have to dismiss after you blink.

I turned away and headed for home.


	5. Chapter 5

_ "Reports of the Fire Nation advance into the Water Tribe are positive!" the head of camp announces cheerfully to the assembled prisoners and guards. "With the Southern half already taken care of, we're expected to finish with the North quickly, especially as that area of the world moves into summer._

_ As for the rest of the world, there is harmony between the Earth Nation and Fire Nation…this is certainly an alliance that has made headway…to last a thousand years…"_

_ '…I'll just keep writing you until those camp doors break open and you come and meet me, where we won't need to write each other anymore, we can just talk. I don't know how long the war will take, but I'll have paper and the hands to fold a plane for as long as it does…"_

Sitting in front of the fence, I contrasted the two thoughts in my head. One was from a speech made by the head of camp earlier in the day. The other was printed on a paper plane; never mind which of the many.

They were starkly different. One promised that I would never make it out of camp. The other told me I would, someday.

Of which one I believed, it was hard to say. The one told to me by the paper plane could've been a blatant lie, but I would've believed it. Or more, I would _want _to believe it. That was the case with this.

I was never getting out of camp. I knew that, deep down, but all I had to do was look at those bright white folded planes in my pillow, and my mind thought otherwise. It was naïve, but I wanted to get out of camp for that, for the sake of the sender of those planes, enough to believe her encouragement that I would get out eventually. Maybe I was deceiving myself, but each day, the deception made digging and working and surviving on bare rations livable, buoyed by the promise of something better.

Raising my eyes to beyond the fence, I saw a shape coming in the distance. That was a beacon to me- that was the better I waited for every day, the better I knew was always waiting for me, somewhere.

It had been several days since I had seen the white-robed girl- maybe more. I had said it once to myself, I had it a million times- I had no concept of time. All I knew was that no matter how many long days had passed without me seeing the white-robed girl, the days I actually did see her made up for it tenfold, allowing me to have a semblance of happiness for days afterwards.

She stood a few paces away. She was panting a bit, like she had run all the way here, and appeared to be swaying on her feet. She looked up, though, and smiled warmly at me. Her bangs hung in her face and obscured her eyes, but that smile had been what I had wanted to see all day.

When the paper plane touched down upon my feet, I had to drag my thoughts away from that to reading the strokes painted gracefully upon the white paper.

My eyes scanned the words, but once I had read them, my mind couldn't make connection. I read over them again and again, trying to make sense of them.

_I'm going away for a little bit, _the words read. She was going away for awhile? For how long? The paper didn't specify, nor why she was going away in the first place. I stared up at the white-robed girl, looking for any further information, and saw that she had turned away and was starting to head away unsteadily.

The thought had run through my head a million times, but I thought it again. Without even knowing her name, without even physically speaking to her, or ever looking at her face without a fence obscuring my vision, this girl had become my everything. Telling her not to leave was selfish. I couldn't do that. So instead I decided to make a promise to her.

"Wait a moment!" I called. The words ripped themselves from my throat. It was the first time I had ever spoken to the girl, previously continuously communicating by paper planes due to the fear of being heard by the guards. But now, I didn't care. I could get hit by a rock in my skull, and I wouldn't care. I needed to get these words out, or I'd explode. Or more accurately, crumble inside, which I feared was already happening.

"You're my partner, right?" I continued. "You're…not going to come back?"

The girl froze, her back to me. I was breathing a little hard myself. _I can't say what I want to tell you, but I hope you understand what I do._

She turned slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth. Soft, pale sunlight glinted off of her cheek, which looked damp.

"My name's Sokka," I told her. "I've been carefully keeping all of your letters. I'll wait until you return, okay?"

My smile, kept up mainly for bravery, faltered before it was gone completely. She was crying now, I could tell, and leaving as quickly as her feet would take her. As soon as I thought she would be gone and I would be dead before I saw her again, she turned around and I saw her tear-soaked face, long black bangs and dulled eyes. Even through tears spilling from her eyes, she smiled.

That smile was in my mind's eye view even after she had walked away and was gone completely from view.

I'd treasure her letters, and wait for her as long as it took. That's what I'd told her, anyway. I'd stand by that. But even with her smile burned into my mind, I could still picture her tears.

Then those tears started welling in my eyes. Once again, it was selfish of me to wish for her to stay. I couldn't expect her to spend her life tossing paper planes back and forth with prisoner, a boy doomed for death regardless of what happens, half-starved and bony, with disheveled hair and torn, dirty clothes, filthy all over and with only a few witty jokes to crack.

Still, I cried. I sank to my knees and cried, wiping away every tear only to have new ones to replace them. Why wasn't I stronger than this? Maybe it was from the fact I didn't have time or energy to cry when Katara died, when Mom died, when I had to run away from the Tribe and was caught. As with the Air Nomad boy, I was left with a numb, frosty pain that I couldn't shake.

But now everything was coming loose. Tiny drops speckled the dirt. I would be heard, I was sure, by someone, and maybe I would be pushed into a pit or killed by rock or fire or beaten just like so many others. The tears still wouldn't stop pouring down my face.

I raised my face to the warm sun. There was no to come from there, and instead my gaze was drawn to the blue sky.

Blue. The blue of my tribe, of icy arctic water and my sister's eyes, all of which I would never see again. That blue sky that I wanted a bright white paper plane to sail across, but which I had no idea if one ever would again.

I'd still wait.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It's been a while! :D Well, now I'm back, with another chapter- the one where basically everything goes downhill….**

It was a day after the white-robed girl had left that I instinctively began to sneak away from the dining hall, just as I had done every day for so long after being in that camp. Only as I crouched behind the rows of barracks that we slept in did I remember that she was gone. "Going away" she said, but that was gone all the same, or at least not here, not by the fence.

Lunch was still going on, and I didn't want to complete the journey to the fence, because that would remind me of the pain. Yesterday I had cried more than I ever had, and even though I doubted I would cry any more now, the pain was still there, digging into me.

I also didn't want to go back to lunch. I had taken some of the bare rations with me, since I would starve without them, and ate them silently and ravenously. Nobody had ever noticed that I had been missing, at least not that I had been aware of, since I was still alive. In the beginning, you remembered people's names and faces. But for the initial prisoners, we had stopped taking note of other people, and similarly, new prisoners did the same, so nobody would remember me, and anyone who did would think I had simply died.

_What if I die before she comes back? That can happen anytime here…_

I had nothing else to do, but as usual, my thoughts were on the white-robed girl, so I decided to reach her the best way I could- through the paper planes. Never before had I tried to get into the barracks when it wasn't nighttime, but no one was guarding them, so I slipped right into mine.

I retrieved the paper planes from my pillow, all folded neatly on top of one another. The top one was the one telling of the good-bye. I looked at the words, soaking them in. _Going away for a little bit…her smile looked so forced. These words don't feel like her…but I have to believe that she will come back, eventually._

Tranquility settled over me as I read over each precious conversation, pushing each treasured paper plane into the pillow once I had read every word on it. It calmed me down, as it always had.

I was so involved doing that, I didn't hear it. I didn't hear the voices or the footsteps as they approached the barracks. Absorbed in my own world, I only took notice of them when the barrack door was pushed open and loud voices were heard.

I had been sitting on the floor with my pillow next to me, and was starting to rise to my feet upon hearing the guards come in. Horror washed over me when I realized that they _were _guards. I had been caught red-handed sneaking away from lunch and reading these paper planes. People had been killed for much less.

The guards encircled me, laughing and kicking at me. One sharp kick to the side made me drop the paper plane I had been clutching. The head guard, a man in glasses with a hat pulled low over his face, laughed at that and scooped it up the ground.

I lunged at him, to take the plane from his grasp, but was held back by several other guards.

"Let go!" I said furiously, the standard cry of a human constrained, even while he knows his captor will not do that. As expected, they didn't let go, instead only gripping me tighter while I strained and yelled at them.

That in itself was humiliating, but I was jostled around by the guards all the time and could've handled that. It was what happened next that set me off.

Ever since I had been taken prisoner, everything had held much more weight. Before, in my village, simply slacking off or looking at someone in the wrong way, saying a comment that could in any way be offensive or asking for one more bit of food meant nothing, and were light, common happenings. But here, doing any of those things could get me killed.

But the same happened in reverse. If I had known the white-robed girl before, she wouldn't have been so important, those letters such a source of happiness. If they had gotten ripped up, it would've been a case of me getting mad that would eventually simmer down to an "Oh well".

Nothing of that sort was taking place now. Because while I could've stood the sight of my paper plane being torn to shreds, as it was now, back when I had an ordinary life, I couldn't now. Rage boiled inside of me, compressed rage that had been there for much too long.

The Earth and Fire nations had taken everything from me. Their raids had killed my mother; their wars had taken my father. An attack on my village had obliterated just that, as well as killing my sister and Gran-Gran. They had imprisoned me in their camp and starved and worked me close to death, as well as so many other innocent people. Now the one thing that had sustained me, they were trying to take as well.

Besides having pure fury at that, I also had sadness. Well, sadness, or sorrow, didn't cover it, and I couldn't find a word in my vocabulary that did. It was pain at being left behind, unfulfilled wishes of seeing that white-robed girl, as well as everyone else I had ever known.

My arms were shaking from anger. With that sudden burst of rage I yanked myself away from my current captors, pushing past them in my shock towards the man that had ripped up the letters. I had said that I wasn't going to cry again, but that was just what I found myself doing, tears running down my face as I shouted curses at the soldiers.

Many people imprisoned in the camp had had emotional meltdowns before. I had thought it wasn't going to happen to me. But now, in the heat of everything, it was.

My fist had connected with the head guard's face before he or anyone else had any idea of what was going on. I rushed forward, ready to beat everything of him, in a sort of blind fury I'd never felt before.

_You have no idea what you're doing!_

_ You think and treat us like we're less than human!_

_ That letter is proof that we're not._

_ I've never hated many people in my life, but now…I hate all of you…and even though this could be the end…_

_ I'm never getting out, not after this, but why…_

_ Why can't I just dream? I thought this camp couldn't take everything happy from me, but now it has. And I'd like to say I don't care, because she… she's gone…_

The tears didn't flow cleanly and silently. They pooled in the corners of my eyes and slid messily down my face. I was held back by several of the guards again, after socking the head one in the face.

He looked up, and for just an instant, he looked straight at me. Shock was etched into his face- and regret, too, and just sadness overall.

I didn't know why.

I didn't care why.

And it didn't matter, because after a second he turned away, pulling his hat low over his bespectacled face. Then he looked to his men.

"There's no question of what to do with this one, is there?" he said, coldly.

The men laughed and agreed, and I went limp, ceasing the thrashing in the face of my imminent doom.

I had known this day was coming. But now it stared me in the face. I was never going to see her face again...instead I would go to…I couldn't even shudder; just numbly acknowledge what was coming.

As they dragged me out of the barracks, my mind wasn't focusing on the head guard and the tear that slipped down his face before he gathered himself again, or fellow prisoners taking notice of me. My thoughts were on the torn letter back in the barracks.

_"I've been carefully keeping all of your letters! I'll wait until you return, okay?" _

_ I won't be keeping that promise. I hope you can understand. _One single tear slid down my nose and to the ground as I stumbled on, not because of my coming death, but the promise I had to break to the girl I loved. And then everything froze again, and the tear was the last one I would ever shed.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's a short, depressing chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and favorited. We're nearing the end, (literally…) so thanks for sticking it out with me! :D **

I stumbled forward. My legs were burning in anguish, practically collapsing between me. The fence grew steadily smaller in the background.

I didn't know if I would hold out all the way back to the hospital. It seemed so far away, a journey I couldn't make. Too many steps. Too little strength.

_It would be so nice…to just fall down here. The grass is soft, and I can feel the earth. Even if I don't have the strength to bend it, I can be close by. The sky is so blue above, and what a nice flower. And then there's…Sokka…not too far away…_

Those were my thoughts as I persevered. But eventually, exhaustion took its toll on me. It was a total lapse in thought. My mind focused everything on the next step, just not falling down and crumbling to nothing right there.

Of course, there was still his name. Sokka. I don't think I would ever be rid of that, as long as I lived.

Which might not have been that long.

_There in the distance…_

_ There's the hospital. I don't know…._

_ ….how will I explain…_

_ …I don't care…_

_ …not too much. I did what I needed…I just need rest…because what I really need…I can't get….Sokka…I've made it this far…this far away._

I pushed open the door. That alone expended the only strength I had remaining. Right in the hospital lobby, I crumpled to my knees, and was saved from falling face-forward completely by a nurse.

Or maybe it wasn't a nurse…it could've been anything…and I would've had no idea.

All around me, there were calls and people rushing around once they noticed the fatally suffering girl Toph Beifong somehow making it down to lobby and dropping to the ground.

I was too sick to notice much going on around me. _Too sick physically. Too sick with grief. _

So while I was carried down the hallways, simply carried and not rolled because there was nothing on hand, I wasn't thinking of that.

When doctors and nurses rushed behind the one carrying me, I didn't think of that.

When I was placed down amongst the white sheets and blankets of my hospital bed, and the tubes and wires were fastened to me, my pulse taken, every part of me scrutinized by doctors in hope of saving my declining life, I hardly noticed it at all.

My mind was elsewhere.

_I shouldn't have tried to act so…so strong. I hated pity…I wanted to be tough…like…an earthbender…but I'm not…nowhere near like you…and now, even though….I was the one to end everything…I want to…see you…_

That was my last thought, echoing through my mind, before I shut down completely. My mind, that is, although my body was not too far behind. My chest felt like an enormous boulder was on it. I couldn't breathe, not just an absence of breath, but a legitimate inability. That was why they placed…whatever it was….over my head…

My legs felt like they had been wading through acid. I had walked so far (_and it wasn't even that far, how pathetic is that) _and they'd finally given out, after all these years.

My hands clenched at the sheets of the bed. Anguish came over me. I tried to not think about the actual pain from my sickness, but even while I tried to fix my mind on other things, my body's condition overrode most everything.

With everything deteriorating physically, the only thing left functioning were my eyes. They gazed dully over everything happening, the doctor forcing people out of the room, I noticed my father. He looked furious. His mouth moved, obviously asking questions to the doctor, who merely pushed him out of the room. He cast one last desperate glance at me from the crack of the door before it was shut.

_Don't worry, Dad…you always worried too much…please, don't worry at all…_

My eyes slipped close as sweat beaded my forehead. _The war will go on…everything will go on…so Sokka…please do the same…tell a joke…act stupid like you always do…you're brave, you'll make it…just continue on somewhere. _


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: We're nearing the end…This chapter was really hard to write ;_; There's one chapter and an epilogue left, so this'll be the last truly Paper Plane themed chapter. I listened to the song while writing it and it was incredibly hard to capture the beauty and emotion of the song in words. Nevertheless, I hope I did a good job- so here you go!**

I didn't move anymore after that.

I had been dying for as long as I had been able to consciously think, but now it was literally happening, right in front of my, and everyone else's, eyes.

I stayed in bed, with a heart monitor beeping beside me and my mouth covered in an attempt to draw one more breath out of me, second after second.

Sounds were hard to hear. Pain clenched at every part of me, and my eyes were often closed as well. In my head thoughts ran wild, but even focusing on one of those thoughts was becoming harder and harder to do.

I just looked at the wall, most of the time. I wanted to look out of the window, at the blue sky and grassy plains, but the window was closed, with drapes over it. All I had were the white walls and humming machines.

_I guess the end is finally here_. I thought dully. It was a stupid thought. _Of course _the end was here. It had always lurked somewhere on the edge of my thoughts, a shadowy figure to the horizon, something I could always see, but that never seemed to get closer.

Until now.

I had tried to ignore it, but I had never tried to fight it. I knew my fate, and I didn't tamper with it.

But now….my mind went out to the earth outside. I was an earthbender, and I wanted to bend again. The small joy I had gotten from bending a few times…But I couldn't. It was too late.

I had never seen any farther than the fence, the hospital, or the hospitals of my old home. The small taste of outside I had gotten in walking back and forth every day…the soft grass…the blue sky…and that small flower. I wanted to see more of that- but it was too late.

_A flower can't grow when it's smothered in darkness, I guess…_

And then there was Sokka. I wanted to see Sokka again. I had gone once, and was pretty much dying for it- but I wanted to go again. I wanted to see him. But…in the end…it was too late for us.

_Beep._

My gaze flicked over to the heart monitor. _I guess I shouldn't be complaining…you had to go through so much…for so long…_

_ Beep._

_ Still, I hope you get out…I really do…_

I squeezed my eyes shut.

_ Beep._

_ Beep._

Suddenly, the door opened. My eyes opened slightly. My father was walking in.

His head was lowered, and when he raised his eyes to mine, he looked utterly defeated. His face had sorrow etched in it, desperation, but also a look of resignation.

When he saw that my eyes were open, he smiled a sad smile and took a seat in the chair next to my bed. He took my hand, clutching it. However, it wasn't too tight or too desperate, just a gentle squeeze.

When he began to talk, I listened, absorbing the information without really processing it. I suddenly felt sad for my poor, sweet father. He'd lost his wife and known his daughter was going to die ever since she was a tiny child. Now he had to sit next to me, in my dying moment, knowing he could do nothing. _How can I leave you alone?_

_Beep._

_ I'm sorry…you've tried so hard for me for as long as I can remember…even while there was reason not to, since it would all end anyway…_

_ Beep._

_ I certainly didn't make things easy for you. If I had the energy…I'd be as headstrong as I used to…_

_ Beep._

_ So thank you for everything, Dad….I never could repay it, and sometimes I didn't really try, but you were always fine with that…_

I opened my eyes and looked over to my dad. Shock hit me when I saw what he was doing. He had opened up the bedroom drawer and was looking at the paper planes piled in there.

_What are you going to do?_

I noticed vaguely the look in my father's eyes. He was staring down at the paper planes, not reading, just looking. I could've sworn he was going to start crying right then, as though the paper planes evoked grief in him.

Then he looked up at me, in a way I could only describe as bittersweet. Even so, I felt like we had made our peace. _Thank you…_

Then he looked away, and the expression vanished. He set down the stack of paper planes on the other side of the bed and began talking to me in an almost mechanical voice, just talking, as if to fill the silence and the minutes.

_Beep._

My eyes shut as my father's words washed over me. I wasn't exactly sleeping. My eyes were closed and my thoughts were elsewhere in a fevered haze, but I could still acutely feel the sheets under and over me, and my father's presence so nearby.

I was in a sort of trance, drifting the darkness that was all around me, only penetrated by the beeps of the heart monitor. My sight showed me a dream world, while my other sense stayed grounded.

Then I saw Sokka. He was just there, amongst the darkness of my sort of dream, his back turned to me. My hand stretched out, something I wouldn't have been able to do in real life.

There was an aching in my chest not just caused by my sickness. Like many times in a dream, I was aware that I was dreaming, but I didn't care. Sokka was so close to me, it only would've taken a few steps to reach him.

Somehow the darkness around us shifted to the scenery of the fence and the camp on one side, the grassy plains on the other. I continued to stretch my hand out to Sokka, unable to find my voice but hoping he would respond.

_I want to see you…I want to see you…_

_ Beep._

Sokka turned around to look at me, and all joy faltered when I saw the expression that was on his face. He looked at me sadly, just staring. His blue eyes were dulled. The blue of his Water Tribe clothes beneath his gray prisoner's uniform was obscured.

_It's too late…I want to see you, but it's too late…! I want to be where you are...I want to…_

_ I want to see you. More than anything. Time's up, though…_

My hand, in the world outside of my hazed dreaming, the one not holding my father's, suddenly tightened around something. I could tell what it was. It was one of the paper planes my father had set on my bed.

_Yes, it's definitely too late for us. But…Sokka…_

_ Did you see that flower, too? It didn't grow within the camp…flowers die in my hospital room…but that flower was in the in between, where we met. It had sunshine to nourish it…Huh, those paper planes, in a way…_

_Beep._

_Thank you for writing so many to me…even while darkness is engulfing us both…_

_Beep._

_For some reason I feel like I'm going to see you again…I'd like that. _

_Beep._

Instead of Sokka's anguished face, all I saw were the memories of happy times before us. That first paper plane, which had come to mean so much to me….

_Through all the pain and suffering that we've had…we'll meet…you know where…_

_So as the line on that monitor goes flat…_

_Beep-beep-beep._

The man in the room looked down at his daughter. He didn't call for any doctors as the line straightened out. He looked away from the heart monitor, from the tubes and machines surrounding me, and looked only at her. In one hand, there was his hand. In the other, there was a paper plane. And on her face, there was a smile.

…_.I'll be thinking of you._

_Beep._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So here we are. This is the last chapter. Thank you to every person who has reviewed, followed, and favorited this story- it really means a lot to me, and thanks for sticking with it until the end!**

**There is going to be an epilogue to this, to take off a little of the edge, but in terms of the official chapters, this is it. So thank you, everyone, and enjoy **

The pain of hitting the floor of the chamber in which I was thrown didn't resonate nearly as much as all the pain I had been feeling before I had even gone in there.

The guards had dragged me all through the buildings where they lived, if their home was too far away, all the way to the back, where the chambers were. The door was yanked open harshly, and I was thrown inside. I hadn't been paying attention to my surroundings, so I hadn't been able to tell whether or not I would be killed immediately and where the gas was coming from.

The chamber was completely dark, rounded, and windowless. Even so, I sat up almost immediately after my captors dumped me on the ground.

It was pointless. I knew it was pointless. But even so, I pounded on the hard sides of the chamber. My fists ached after doing so, and I dropped to the ground.

_I have no regrets in life…but I want to live just a little longer!_

My mind flashed to Katara, my mom, my dad, my Gran-Gran, my entire tribe. I could see the Air nomad boy and every other person who had passed before me. Nothing was fair. But even so….

My mind slipped back into memories. Memories of her, the white-robed girl. I pictured every moment by the fence, every word printed on the white sheet of paper. I only wanted to live a little bit longer for that_. I want to see her again….!_  
Suddenly, I began to choke. A substance floated in the air, burning my lungs and making my head spin.

I keeled over, clutching my stomach. My hands continued to weakly pound at the floor, but it was of no use. I covered my mouth, but nothing happened. The poison was slowly killing me, and there was nothing I could do.

Still, my mind was on her, as it usually was. The memories continued to flash through my head, flashing by quickly.

_I can't have those anymore…I can't have anything at all anymore…but everything you gave me…it was my happiness, you know? _

_That's why I'm still pulling at the wall where the door was like it'll open…that's why I'm screaming even though no one can hear…it's because I just want to see you…!_

Weeds of darkness filled my mind. They were ugly and consuming, taking away everything good I had ever experienced. And the white-robed girl…she was just beyond them. Even with the darkness surrounding her, I could still see her.

She was somewhere else, far away, right now. Even while knowing that, I tried to reach out to her. I grabbed, desperately, trying to get her to reach me, but she was beyond my grasp, in this tiny, dark chamber.

The poison gas was thick in the air now. I fell forward, gasping and choking, feeling my body system shut down.

_I said I'd wait but I didn't. Or more, I can't. I wish I could see you now…! _

_Even though I knew this would happen…and you did too…you made me feel like I had all the time in the world, like there might actually be hope out there…but now you can't earthbend for me. I can't take you to the Water Tribe. So…_

In the corner of my eye, I noticed something on the dark cave floor. It was dirty and off-white but still stood out against everything.

It was a scrap of paper plane, probably torn off from when I was reading them back in the barracks. My hand felt numb, so I couldn't grab the scrap between my fingers. But looking at it, realization hit me like thunder, harder than any hit from a guard.

Katara had always told me I could be stupid or oblivious in the most inopportune moments. Come to think of it, the white-robed girl had something kind of the same. But this…this was….

How had I never asked her? When she was walking away, why hadn't I shouted it? But my stupidity didn't matter at the moment. What I really wanted to know…

_Your name…! Oh, Spirits, why did I never ask that? I have no regrets, I know. I'm going to die, without a doubt. But…I just want one more chance…one more chance to talk to you…your name…if this is my last moment…I want to know…._

It was all ending. My chest felt like it was going to explode. My screams were echoing in the chamber, ones of sorrow and just pure pain from the suffocating gas. My hands clawed at the floor, my clothes, everything around me, all in vain.

My breath was coming quickly and in short gasps. It was getting harder and harder. The increasing agony told me I had only a few seconds, and then I'd be dead, just another body in one of these gas chambers, to be thrown in the hole right by the fence that held so many memories.

_I'm going to see everyone too…and somewhere beyond the darkness, I'll see you too._

_But really….what I really want to know…_

Memories of everything, my life literally flashing before my eyes, appeared in front of me in the last second I had.

…_.your name…_


	10. Epilogue

If you looked out at the world of the four nations, Water, Earth, Fire and Air, from the perspective of a spirit long past- if you looked out at the world, what is it that you would see?

That world of those four nations is currently at war. Earth and Fire against Water and Air, although as the latter is a pacifist it is more Water fighting alone against the two, an impressive and decidedly hopeless feat.

As are the usual actions of war, horrible atrocities have been committed on both sides. Using the bending powers they are gifted with (or the weapons they have been taught to use, if they have none) the people of this war fight in ruthless battles that aren't limited to armies and battlefields. The people of these nations have been thrown into the fight as well, defending their homes, being carted away to prison camps, subjected to the cruelty of passing soldiers. Animosity is not limited to the enemy. It can come from the ally as well.

Families torn apart, young men dying, pain and suffering running rife across the land…

So if you looked out at the world from the point of view of a long-gone spirit, in the political sense, you'd only see four nations on their respective landmasses (even with the Air Temples scattered, the Water Tribes at either extreme of the Earth, and the colonies). Armies would be moving across the marked land. If you looked at it in the physical sense, you'd see icy, frozen tundras, vast plains and deserts, rocky mountains and deep blue oceans. But if you were to see it in an emotional sense, it'd all be dark.

Or at least, at first glance. The entire world would be darkened by the anguish brought upon it as it tore itself apart in every aspect- political, physical, and emotional. But there would be more there. Those bright spots, those colors amongst the darkness we call 'hope'.

As a spirit, it's not easy to look out at the world like that, you know. We have passed, but it is not uncommon to have left someone behind, and even old spirits (or ones who haven't left but have simply existed forever as a spirit) can grieve for the world as it is. We have little power to do anything to help or affect those below, those benders and non-benders alike making a mess of things.

They can really only help themselves, and hope is one of the ways to do so.

Of course, there'll be many who say that hope has no place in a world such as this. It will get extinguished, trampled upon, and utterly beaten and destroyed until the person is nearly as gone, physically, as their faith that things will get better.

But that's not necessarily true. To hope in such dark times the person who does so will be strong in character and will, and undoubtedly determined. Even if it is eventually vanquished, there'll be others. And that there is hope, because without it, without believing others will come and help us to better days, then we're simply defeating ourselves.

So if you looked out at that desolate world, that is what you would see.

Then there's the question of: If you looked at the Spirit World, what would you see?

That question has many answers, the majority of them all correct. The Spirit World appears differently to everyone, so one person would answer differently than the next. But say maybe your vision showed you windswept hills.

These hills would be under a bright blue sky, and among the tousled grass there would be small, just-beginning-to-bloom, flowers. If you happened to see something like this, then maybe, if you were looking at it at the right time, you would witness another scene.

A boy would be walking amongst the grass, coming over the ridge of the hill. This boy, about 15, is obviously from the Water Tribe (or was, if you happen to think over it morbidly) as indicated by his noticeably darker complexion and bright blue eyes. Dark hair pulled into a 'ponytail', more commonly dubbed a 'warrior's wolftail' in his home Tribe.

And this boy would have a lost look on his face- as not uncommon for spirits just coming into the Spirit World, moreso if you have never been there before. Although he would also be searching for something, searching devoutly, even though he himself has no idea where he is (besides the obvious).

Now, on the other ridge of the hill. There you would spot a girl coming over the ridge. She is younger than this boy, and rather small. Black hair in an Earth Nation hairdo (a confirmation of her ethnicity amongst others) although one obviously for ease and comfort as opposed to style. Wrapped up in a white robe, this girl would be just as confused and out of place as this boy, but with the same determination as this boy to find whatever it is she is so intently searching for.

Now, you would pause and wonder to yourself for a moment, just what are these two searching for? But if you kept your eyes trained on the scene that you were seeing, that would be revealed quickly.

Because when that Water Tribe boy sees that Earth Nation girl, there is a look of what can only be called ecstasy on his face. And on hers, it's counterpart joy. Of finding what they were looking for, whether expected or not, it would look like a reunion like never before.

And the two of them would come together, nearly crying, and with relief on both of their faces, and even without knowing the story behind these two, you would be able to acknowledge the suffering and hardships they must've suffered together to reduce their encounter to something like this.

So, if you looked out at the world below, in every aspect, physically, politically, and emotionally, you would see pain and grief, war and corruption, land torn apart by armies, punctuated every now and then with hope or purity.

If you looked on this particular scene, though, you would see two people, a boy and a girl, from different nations that were not a point of concern, smiling with sheer bliss together under a blue sky, in a green meadow with flowers that would die without the sun- that would be killed by stark darkness- they would be as liberated as anything, prisoners of nothing, with as many worries as a paper plane soaring freely across the sky.


End file.
